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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26364055">My Lover's Gone</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofdecember/pseuds/ladyofdecember'>ladyofdecember</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Venture Bros</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cemetery, Depression, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, M/M, Mentions of Hank, Mentions of The Monarch, Post Season 7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:27:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,132</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26364055</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofdecember/pseuds/ladyofdecember</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I shoulda' been there.” He said aloud suddenly, taking a long pull from the whiskey bottle as he pocketed his knife. “I'm sorry.”</p>
<p>Brock sloshed the golden liquid around in the bottle and watched it go back and forth, gathering his courage to continue, to address his emotions finally. It had been months. It was time to confront the truth. </p>
<p>The man was gone and he was not coming back.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Brock Samson/Rusty Venture</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>My Lover's Gone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The news of the cancellation of Venture Bros hit me like a brick wall and I feel very intensely sad about it. It's almost like losing a loved one. I came up with this so you're welcome. Enjoy the extremely heavy angst and grief and darkness. </p>
<p>---</p>
<p>"My lover's gone<br/>I know that kiss will be my last<br/>No more his song<br/>The tune upon his lips has passed</p>
<p>I sing alone<br/>While I watch the ocean<br/>My lover's gone<br/>No earthly ships will ever bring him home again<br/>Bring him home again"<br/>--My Lover's Gone by Dido</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a hard pill to swallow, the news arriving suddenly that someone you loved is gone.</p>
<p>It made everything seem so surreal, so imaginary like it wasn't real, like you were still dreaming and just needed to wake up.</p>
<p>Losing someone like that without the ability to even say goodbye was heart wrenching. There was nothing quite like it.</p>
<p>Brock had been sitting in the kitchen when his watch began to beep, alerting him to a call. It was Hunter and the blonde could swear he'd never seen a more haunted look on the man's face in their twenty year period of working together.</p>
<p>The conversation was brief, just the facts being delivered solemnly to the younger man and for that Brock was grateful. The shock he felt welled up nasty paranoia within him and he felt a sudden urge to investigate the matter himself.</p>
<p>Because there was no way the news was true. The body they'd found was some other man's, not Rusty Venture's. It just wasn't possible.</p>
<p>The man's absence wasn't suspicious, he'd simply wanted to take some time away due to recent events. He'd promised to return shortly after some rest and relaxation. They'd parted amicably with the promise of his returning soon. </p>
<p>There was nothing odd about it and Brock had made sure to double check the scientist's destination thoroughly. He had contacts everywhere, even on remote islands and vacation resorts around the world and he'd asked his cohorts to keep an eye out for activity. There'd been no problems, no issues whatsoever. And so Brock had relaxed and enjoyed having the house to himself for once.</p>
<p>With Dean spending more and more time away at his dorm and Hank's abrupt but not entirely unfounded disappearance, the penthouse was silent and devoid of any life. Brock had welcomed it.</p>
<p>Despite his insistence otherwise, the body recovered from the accident had been confirmed two, three times over to be of one Rusty Venture. Brock had no choice but to accept it. </p>
<p>The events that unfolded after that seemed to move at light speed around him. Settled with the business of handling the funeral arrangements and not to mention the literal handling of the business in the man's name, Brock found the constant chaos around him blissful. It meant he literally didn't have a moment to himself to think, to feel, to wonder things. He didn't have to deal with this ever if he didn't want to. And that idea was starting to look more and more appealing.</p>
<p>And so he handled it all, the business, the funeral. He dealt with Dean's emotions while ignoring his own and even found a way to console a grieving Billy and White. When The Monarch came calling, he didn't even harass the man. He let him pass, let him go in peace.</p>
<p>Once it all died down however, that was when it hit him like a brick wall.</p>
<p>The man stood silently in the graveyard of the cemetery where the man was buried. He held a bottle of whiskey in one hand and his knife in the other. He'd likely not need to use it here but it never hurt to be prepared.</p>
<p>Staring down at the grave, Brock wondered if the man were here, were present to watch over him. He'd never been a religious man but ghosts weren't outside the realm of possibility. He'd seen a great many things in his day, strange things that defied all logic and science, despite what the Doc may have argued at the time. Ghosts could be real. They were probably, definitely real.</p>
<p>He hoped.</p>
<p>And so, for all he knew, the man was here now with him, watching him silently as he drank in the cemetery where he was buried.</p>
<p>He wondered what he thought of his death, what he thought of his inability to protect him, despite being hundreds of miles away at the time.</p>
<p>“I shoulda' been there.” He said aloud suddenly, taking a long pull from the whiskey bottle as he pocketed his knife. “I'm sorry.”</p>
<p>Brock sloshed the golden liquid around in the bottle and watched it go back and forth, gathering his courage to continue, to address his emotions finally. It had been months. It was time to confront the truth. </p>
<p>The man was gone and he was not coming back.</p>
<p>“When you left I... I knew you were a little overwhelmed by everythin'. I knew you wanted to be alone. I just... I shouldn't have let you go.” He shrugged to himself, taking another long drink of his whiskey.</p>
<p>“What would you have done if I'd followed you anyway? You woulda' been mad.”</p>
<p>Distantly, a crow flapped about in a nearby tree, settling on a branch and beginning to squawk loudly.</p>
<p>“I know, I know, you just needed to get away. You didn't wanna... you were upset about Hank leaving. You just didn't want to be here anymore.”</p>
<p>Settling his gaze on the woods that lay just beyond the cemetery, his eyes grew misty as the implication of his words settled upon him. He took a deep breath and righted his gaze upon the grave once more.</p>
<p>“You shouldn't have been there, not alone. I could have saved you. I could have... I dunno, got you out of the rubble before... “</p>
<p>He let himself trail off quietly, letting his eyes rest on the green grass below. His hands began to shake real bad but he ignored them, moved forward intent on getting it all out in the open.</p>
<p>He continued on this way for a while, imagining the other man's side of the conversation in the empty spaces of it. He even smiled as he pictured the man standing just to the side, hands on his hips berating him in that stern and nasally way he used to.</p>
<p>"I know you won't forgive me, but I'm still sorry." </p>
<p>Brock's lip began to tremble as he realized that the scientist was never going to answer his queries. He was never going to answer because he was gone, truly gone. </p>
<p>"Please talk to me." He muttered, resolve finally dissolving completely as tears rolled down his cheeks. </p>
<p>Brock broke down, unable to hold it back any longer. He cried, letting the whiskey bottle drop to the grass below as he held his face in his hands. </p>
<p>Dropping to his knees, he cried. He was no longer holding it together, no longer had to be strong for anyone. He could let it all out. He could be broken and weak and hell even sensitive.</p>
<p>Who was he protecting now?</p>
<p>Doc was gone.</p>
<p>He let himself cry, let himself feel the sweet grief fully and then he slowly got up, retrieved the half empty bottle and made his way to his car.</p>
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